


Scop

by gardnerhill



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Early in Canon, Gen, Prompt Fic, Revenge, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is more dangerous to anger a bard than a king. A king can merely kill you; a bard can <span class="u">immortalize</span> you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scop

_What you do in this world is a matter of no consequence._

Had this been another time, another age, I might have presented my card to my adversary, and then flung my glove in his face. I would have named a nearby sward at dawn the next day; I would have met him and his second there in the chill mists of morning, with my new acquaintance along as my own second. Bypassing both sword and pistol, as the injured party I would opt for fisticuffs – where my profound satisfaction at physically thrashing this insolent braggart, this thief of another's brain-work, would be matched by my grim pleasure that the hound was left wretchedly alive at the end of his lesson to limp, humiliated, in the light of day, and endure the jeers of his associates. My companion's honour and reputation restored to its rightful place once more, we would retire from the field.

But we live in a modern, civilised age. My shattered shoulder preclude fisticuffs and the sword, and my revolver is for defence only.

Civilised men choose civilised weapons with which to attain satisfaction from their opponents.

I took up my companion's requital, a mere few ounces in my dominant hand. With a sure, deft hand I loaded it from the small glass well near my elbow and dealt the first stroke.

"…one little sallow rat-faced, dark-eyed fellow" … "…rubbing his hands in a pompous and self-satisfied manner" … "…the credit of this smart capture belongs entirely to the well-known Scotland Yard officials…"

I could feel the ends of my moustache curl in a tiger's snarl.

**Author's Note:**

> For the Watson's Woes July 5 2011 prompt ("The pen is mightier than the sword").


End file.
